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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656953">not some kind of werewolf healing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek'>milkysterek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Episode: s01e04 Magic Bullet, M/M, Season/Series 01, the arm thing, you know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where your soulmate can heal your injuries.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>401</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>not some kind of werewolf healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love writing again. I cannot be stopped.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re going to cut off my arm.”</p><p>Stiles drops forward onto the exam table, waving his own arm aimlessly, at a complete loss for words. He had a sneaking suspicion Derek Hale was batshit crazy when he first met him. Somehow, being proven right doesn’t taste as sweet as it’s supposed to. Maybe in a few days, once he’s gotten some distance from the nightmarish act of cutting off another man’s arm. Maybe then he can bask in its warm glow.</p><p>He picks up the saw, gives a hesitant press of the trigger and drops it straight back onto the table with a clatter. “Oh my god. What if you bleed to death?” He tries to reason while Derek ties a ligature above the infection. </p><p>“It’ll heal if it works,” Derek doesn’t look up, just grits out his response, undeterred. </p><p>For a moment, Stiles thinks he might actually kill Derek and beat the wolfsbane to the punch. It would serve his werewolf ass right for inflicting this fresh hell upon him in the first place.</p><p>“Look, maybe there are other options. There are always other options to explore. Other avenues,” He babbles, coming around the table until he’s almost chest to chest with a very shirtless (and very dying - he reminds himself) Derek. </p><p>Without thinking, he reaches up and cups his hand around Derek’s bicep, trying to get a better look at the dark veins twisting up his mangled arm. It makes Stiles want to gag and he strengthens his grip to stop himself from toppling over, faint. If Derek survives, Stiles would never live fainting in front of him down.</p><p>Derek lets out a ragged breath. “Unless Scott gets here <em> now</em>, there aren’t any other-”</p><p>He stops talking and for one horrifying moment, Stiles thinks it’s too late. Thinks his stalling has cost Derek his life. He looks up, expecting the worst.</p><p>Derek lifts his free hand, presses a finger to the retreating veins. Amber eyes follow the black lines as they retract, draining towards the bullet wound still visible in Derek’s forearm. The poison spills from the hole and splatters onto the floor. Once it’s completely drained, the bullet wound closes up and Derek stands there, stunned and silent but most importantly: <em> healed</em>.</p><p>“What the…” Stiles breathes.</p><p>Normally, he would know what this means. Because Stiles has stayed up whole nights researching soulmate healing, desperately looking for proof that it could be delayed in some cases after he had helped Lydia up when she’d skinned her knee at school. He’d wanted so bad for that graze to vanish at his touch.</p><p>But now.</p><p>“This is some kind of werewolf healing,” He says because it has to be. Because how on earth could <em> Derek Hale </em>possibly be his…</p><p>Derek doesn’t answer him, just stares, mouth parted, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way Stiles has never seen them before. They’re scared eyes, more scared than they had been at the prospect of dying. </p><p>Stiles reaches out for the electric saw. He doesn’t turn it on, just runs the blade against the palm of his hand. Blood wells in a straight line, a little trickles around the curve of his hand, dripping onto the floor. Derek takes his hand gently in his own like he’s cradling it, like Stiles’ hand is something precious.</p><p>Before their eyes, the cut knits back together leaving only a faint pink mark in its place. </p><p>“It’s you,” Derek says, his voice gentle and warm. </p><p>They meet eyes again and Stiles has to bite his bottom lip to stop from grinning. Derek cups his jaw like he’s in complete awe of Stiles. They lean in, mouths a hair away from brushing.</p><p>“Stiles?”</p><p>Scott skids around the corner, grabbing the doorframe to stop from spinning out. He comes to a staggering stop as he takes in the scene before him. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Uh,” Stiles looks to his best friend, watches the way Scott’s cheeks heat up uncomfortably, “We don’t need the bullet anymore.”</p>
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